May the Odds
by omgerinlovesloganlerman
Summary: In a world of government control, one girl enters a fight to the death to save the one she loves.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or the Hunger Games. Those belong to Jo and Suzanne, respectively. What you recognize is theirs, anything you don't is mine.

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><p>I wake up to find the bed opposite mine empty. Hugo has probably gone into one of my cousin's rooms for comfort. The sun just barely peeking over the horizon indicates that it's about seven o'clock in the morning. I pull on a new green t-shirt and lace up my black boots. The wood floor is like a minefield with its creaky boards and I do a little jig to slip out of the house silently. Might as well let everyone else sleep in longer.<p>

The streets are empty save for the few homeless families living in the dark alleys. I try to avoid their pleading stares. When I reach the fence surrounding District Seven, I find the loose connection in the metal chain and climb through.

Away from civilization, I'm surrounded by nothing but trees, grass, and the occasional animal or two. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before following the familiar path to the clearing by the lake. He's there waiting for me, just like every year.

I sit down next to the teal-haired boy and take a thermos of apple cider out of my jacket pocket. He unwraps a loaf of bread and tosses the fancy napkin aside. The loaf smells fresh and the warmth is still radiating off of it. We take turns breaking pieces off the end and sipping from the thermos. Like the bread, the cider is fresh, as well.

I clear my throat and force out my next words. "Hugo is entered this year."

Teddy Lupin just nods and looks at me sympathetically. He knows how worried I am. "Rose, his name is in the bowl once. Just once. There are hundreds of names in that mix, and many of them are multiples. The odds are completely in his favour."

"I know that. But you know what happened to Rigel two years ago. His name was entered once and he still got picked."

Teddy sighs and takes my hand in his as he lies down in the soft, green grass. "If you're so worried, do something about it. Let's run away. We can take all the kids and live in the woods. With your skills, we'd make it."

"Please. We'd be caught not even five miles in. And I don't fancy death by the Ministry, thank you very much."

I swallow the last bit of cider and screw the lid back on. Teddy stands and pulls me up but doesn't let go of my hand. In a voice hardly above a whisper: "Just think about it, okay?"

I'm shocked by the emotion laced in his voice and the intensity in his eyes. I nod, sure that I wouldn't be able to speak if I tried. He drops my hand and we walk back to the fence, which he holds up as I crawl under. Then I do the same for him.

"See you in the square. Wear something pretty." He turns left towards his house and I turn right towards mine.

When I open the front door, I find that everyone is already up and preparing for the Reaping Ceremony. My aunts and uncles are brushing their teeth and having quick lunches before going to help dress their children. Victoire is pinning the back of Hugo's pants and his bare feet peek out below the hems. I kiss his head and give her a smile before going into my room and locking the door.

I rifle through my closet for my nicest outfit and come up with a blue dress my mother passed down to me. It's the exact shade of my eyes – my father's eyes – and looks lovely with my hair. I pull up the zipper and attach the tiny clasp before smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. There's a timid knock at the door and my mother walks in with a small smile, if you could even call it that.

As I sit down on the stool in front of the looking glass, she picks up my hairbrush and starts combing through my curls. Then she begins twisting and plaiting my hair in an elaborate style I could never even dream of recreating. By the time she's done, it's nearly two o'clock. She leaves to go change her clothes and I look at my reflection in the mirror. Ironically enough, Reaping Day is the only day of the year where I look somewhat pretty. Every citizen is required to "wear their best" for the ceremony, and there frankly isn't a justifiable reason to during the rest of the year.

Ten minutes until two o'clock, I, along with the rest of my family, walk towards the district square. I'm holding Hugo's hand tightly and my mother walks on my other side. We reach the crowded area and I am forced to leave my brother to join the group of sixteen year old girls. Teddy catches my eye across the way and crosses his heart with his finger – our secret sign. I attempt a smile and cross my heart back.

As the clock tower hits the fourteenth hour, Mayor Mowbray steps up to the podium and begins to tell the tale of the new Wizarding World. It's the same every year, and I could probably recite it myself.

My Uncle Harry defeated the dark wizard Voldemort when he was seventeen years old. A few years later, however, a revenge-seeking Death Eater murdered Harry and took over the Wizarding World. In order to keep everyone from attempting to overthrow him, magic was limited, districts were controlled, and every year brought forth a Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games. It's completely barbaric. Every year, each of the twelve districts sends a boy and a girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to compete in a fight to the death. The Ministry considers it entertainment and we are all forced to watch as our neighbours kill or be killed.

The reaping can't be controlled; anyone can be chosen as tribute, whether it be friends, family, or even yourself. No one is safe. Perhaps that's why I'm so nervous this year in particular. It's Hugo's first year eligible as tribute. I try to protect him in every way I can, but I'm powerless against the reaping.

Mayor Mowbray finishes his speech and proceeds to read the names of previous District 7 victors. There are only two: Stewart Ackerley, who won the Second Hunger Games, and Abigail Zeller, who won the Eleventh Hunger Games. Both are present, but do not stand when their names are called.

Eric Munch, District 7's escort, leaves his seat and steps up to the podium. He's an average looking fellow, if you ignore the green hair and shimmery silver skin. He gives the crowd a crooked smile. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!"

I'm reminded of the fact that my name is entered twenty times, and Teddy's is entered thirty-five. The odds are most definitely not in our favour.

"Ladies first."

Eric sticks his hand in the giant glass bowl and draws out a folded-up slip of paper. Time slows and I squeeze my eyes shut. _Please don't be me, please don't be me, please don't be me. _He calls out the name in a clear voice. And it's not me.

"Trinity Brown."

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding and look over towards the seventeen-year-old girls' section of the crowd. Trinity is looking up at the man behind the podium with wide eyes. One of her friends – or maybe her sister – gives her a small nudge and she begins to walk forward.

Trinity had been in the year above me when we were in school. She wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but was always surrounded by a group of friends. We never really spoke.

I feel terrible for her as she shakes Eric's hand. There is no way she'll survive the Games. Between her tiny figure and average-at-best skill with a wand, the Careers will crush her almost immediately. It's a shame, too; Trinity's a beautiful girl and could very easily find a husband in a few years. She had a future, but now that future's lost.

Eric then sticks his hand in the bowl of boys' names. I search the crowd for Teddy and he looks just as scared as I am. I pray to any god that's out there that his name is not on that slip of paper. Eric reads the name in a clear voice. And it's not Teddy.

It's Hugo Weasley.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Okay, so this idea has been in my head for months now. The other day I suddenly had a burst of inspiration and typed out a few hundred words on my iPod. We'll see how it goes, eh?

I am in the process of writing some other stories/one-shots, so hopefully those will be up soon.

This story is in the Harry Potter section, not cross-over, because while it has the overall plot of the Hunger Games, it won't have any characters from that series. I don't consider that a cross-over, so it'll stay here.

I hope you enjoy this, and reviews, as always, are appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or the Hunger Games. Those belong to Jo and Suzanne, respectively. What you recognize is theirs, anything you don't is mine.

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><p>For the first few days after my father died, it was if I was underwater. Nothing looked or sounded right. I spoke only when necessary. There was no pain, not yet. When it finally hit me that my father was dead, gone, never coming back, I lost it. There was a lot of screaming, kicking, and sobbing. I had to be sedated.<p>

That's how I feel right now. The silence as Hugo walks towards the stage crushes me and I'm gasping for breath. Hugo's name was one in hundreds – maybe even thousands. The odds were completely in his favour.

I elbow my way through the crowd and duck under the rope. Four hit-wizards come to put me back in my place and I struggle against their arms.

"I volunteer! I volunteer!"

The hit-wizards loosen their grip slightly in shock and I push past them. I look up at Eric with my fists clenched by my sides.

"I volunteer as tribute."

Eric looks absolutely flabbergasted. No one has ever volunteered in the history of the Hunger Games, despite it being asked after every reaping. The rule is that once a tribute's name has been pulled from the bowl, another eligible boy, if a boy's name has been called, or girl, if a girl's name has been called, can step forward. Abigail stands from her chair and walks towards the podium. There's a confused expression on her face as well.

"Actually, I don't think girls can volunteer for the boys, am I right?" She directs her question at Eric.

"Well – "

"Then I'll replace Trinity and you can draw another boy's name." I'm absolutely desperate right now. Anything to keep Hugo out of the arena.

"Is that even – " Abigail begins another inquiry, but is interrupted by Eric pressing his free hand to his right ear. I know that he is receiving a call from the Ministry, most likely about the rules of the reaping. A minute passes.

"It seems an exception has been made. Miss…?"

"Weasley. Rose Weasley"

"Ah, yes. Miss Weasley has been allowed to replace Miss Trinity Brown as tribute, and little Hugo gets to stay home, safe and sound."

Trinity has both hands covering her mouth. Her eyes are wide and I can't meet them. I don't need pity or gratitude right now. I just need to keep from crying. I look down at Hugo who already has tears streaming down his cheeks. He latches on to my skirt and buries his head in my thigh.

"Go on, Hugo. Go on, get back behind the rope." My voice sounds strange to my own ears.

He still doesn't move. Teddy comes from the back of the crowd and unpeels Hugo's fingers from the fabric. He throws him over his shoulder as Hugo starts to wail at the top of his lungs. Teddy says nothing as he drags Hugo back into the sea of still silenced people.

I stand tall and lift my chin as I climb the stairs and place myself to the right of Eric. My throat is tingling and it takes all I have not to burst into tears right then. Eric says something I don't hear and sticks his hand into the bowl for a third time. I don't have time to hope for Teddy's safety before he is reading the name aloud.

Scorpius Malfoy.

For a second time today, I have trouble breathing. A memory surfaces and I am whisked into the past.

It was about seven months after my father's passing and things had not gotten better. My mother still refused to speak to anyone and hardly left her room. Hugo woke from nightmares twice a night and even I had trouble sleeping soundly for eight hours. Without my father's income, we were forced to sell a large amount of our possessions, but it still wasn't enough. Neither Hugo nor I had had a proper meal in two weeks, and it was obviously showing.

I had won three Knuts in a betting game behind the school the afternoon before. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough for anything to eat; not bread, not a slice of ham, not even a measly apple. The rain had begun to pour and in a moment of desperation, I had slit my wrists with a piece of broken glass I found on the cobblestone. At the time, death seemed like a reward. I'd be welcomed back into my father's arms; we'd have a great feast, and then do everything we used to do.

There wasn't much pain, just a small sting at first. My blood continuously rushed out and I soon collapsed in an alley in the richer part of town. I could feel death coming for me when a figure appeared in my line of vision. It was a boy my age with platinum hair and a definite jawline, even at just eleven and a half years old. My vision was blurry but I knew it was Scorpius Malfoy.

He tore off the ends of his button down shirt and tied them tightly around my wrists. The sheer fabric was soaked from rain – and now blood – but it did its job. The stream slowed. He pulled a bottle of Essence of Dittany from his pocket – _why was that there?_ – And unplugged the stopper. Holding my shaking hands steady, he squeezed a few drops on each wrist and closed the bottle.

I watched as he backpedalled out of the alley, ran down the street, and entered a house with a metal gate. I must have passed out, because I awoke the next morning in the same alley in a puddle of water stained with blood. I tried to thank him that day at school, but he avoided me at all costs. Eventually, I gave up and ignored him once more. I ignored most people back then.

I come back to the present and I'm glad I didn't fall backwards. Most of my flashbacks cause me to lose my balance. Scorpius is standing next to me on the stage and Eric is speaking once more. He instructs us to shake hands. We comply. The reaping ends and people begin to leave the square. I can't see Teddy or any of my family members. Scorpius and I are led to the Justice Building with Eric in front of us and Abigail and Stewart behind us. It's as we are walking that I realize probably the most important thing of my life.

There can be only one victor.

At least one of us is not coming home, if either gets to come home at all. _There will be twenty-four tributes_, I tell myself. _Odds are someone will kill him before I am forced to_. But then again, the odds have not been very dependable as of late.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Admittedly, this is not my best work. But, I've pored over it and just cannot find anything else to change. If someone is willing to beta: go on and message me.

Thank you all so so so much for the reviews and alerts. The best part of my day is coming home, checking my email, and seeing such positive things in my inbox. I do hope you enjoy this chapter as well. I apologize for the shortness, but my outline causes it to stop where it does. The chapters should start to get longer soon.

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><p><strong>Review Replies: <strong>I usually respond to reviews with a message, but since I've gotten some anonymous ones, I'll answer those here.

_Unnamed Reviewer: _First off, thank you. And that was answered in this chapter, though there is more to the decision than what is shown. It's Rose's POV and she doesn't know the full story yet. She will in later chapters, however, so expect an explanation. Awesome, me too! (Obviously.) Well, the beginning of my story was supposed to be very similar to the book and lucky for us THG fans, the film looks to be very much like the book as well. So that's where the resemblance comes in. I hope I made it different enough for you in this chapter, but feel free to keep commenting/ concrit-ing on that. It definitely helps me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or the Hunger Games. Those belong to Jo and Suzanne, respectively. What you recognize is theirs, anything you don't is mine.

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><p>Once inside the Justice Building, I am led down the West Wing and into the seventh room on the left. It is most definitely the fanciest room I have been in my entire life. My father used to describe Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when I was younger. I imagine this is what the Gryffindor Common Room looked like.<p>

There's a high ceiling – probably about twenty feet – and one wall is entirely made up of windows. The curtains are a deep black velvet with golden tassels tying them back. A large fireplace rests on the right wall. The mantle holds various knick knacks and trinkets worth more than my house. Two sofas the same texture as the curtains face each other in the centre of the room, with a low table in between. I'm running my fingers lightly over the tapestry on the right wall when my first visitors enter.

My mother. Hugo.

Hugo immediately runs and wraps his arms around me. I manoeuvre us to one of the couches and sit down, avoiding squashing his small fingers. Mum wraps her arms around me as well and soon all three of us are crying. I know I can't afford to look like a weepy weakling when I arrive at the Ministry, so I separate myself from the two of them and wipe my tears with the back of my hand.

Taking a deep breath, I instruct them on how to survive when I'm gone. I avoid the word dead.

Mum is to continue tutoring the schoolchildren after classes, but must start asking for compensation. Wheat. Apples. Fresh water. Hugo needs to finish his schooling and then should search for a job. Perhaps a street vendor for the baker. Or maybe learn healing under Draco Malfoy's hand. If things become desperate, they can move in with Teddy and his adoptive family. We made a pact a few years back that we would take care of the other's family if they were unlucky enough to be reaped.

I grab my mother's hand and look into her eyes. "You need to take care of yourself and Hugo, okay mum? You can't go back to like you were before, okay? Promise me." She nods. "No matter what you see on the screen, okay? Just don't go back to that." The anger and abandonment I felt all those years ago consumes me and a flashback overtakes me.

It was a year after my father's death. Being twelve years old meant I was eligible for the Hunger Games. Hugo was adjusting, but still had nightmares three or four times a week. I hadn't spoken to Scorpius since that night in the alley, and no one had mentioned the matching scars on the insides of both wrists. I was finishing an essay for a History of Magic when Hugo hurried into our bedroom. His eyes were wide with fright and his entire body was shaking slightly. He dragged me to my mother's quarters.

She was sitting on a chair, her legs tucked up to her chin. Her hair hadn't been washed in who knows how long and the dark circles under her eyes were highlighted by her sunken in cheeks. Lack of nutrition had taken a toll on her as well. Hugo told me that he had been speaking to her for ten minutes, but hadn't responded. I called her name, eventually reaching shouting volume. Screaming at her still, I slapped the side of her face. She stayed unresponsive.

Realizing something was terribly wrong, I sent Hugo to the Malfoy home to fetch Draco. While Mr Malfoy could just tolerate "The Weasley Girl" – like most people in the district – he was actually quite fond of Hugo. I also didn't want to risk running into Scorpius. There are just some conversations one cannot hold without them turning awkward. For example, the first conversation after a boy saves your life.

Hugo came back with Mr Malfoy about ten minutes later and he immediately set to work. We were sent to Aunt Fleur's house for the afternoon and late evening. It was dark outside by the time Mr Malfoy came to fetch us. He explained everything to me in the simplest way possible. He used words like "Post Traumatic Stress" and "Only physically there." But I understood the overall meaning. My mother was depressed and couldn't take care of us. I was worried we would be sent to the home for orphaned and abandoned children, but Fleur offered to take us all in. The three of us moved into the two spare bedrooms in Aunt Fleur's house. Still, it was years before mum could hold a conversation with anyone.

Suddenly I'm back in the fancy Justice Building room and lying on the couch. Hugo is kneeling next to me on the floor, holding my sweaty hand, and my mother is leaning over me, stroking hair out of my face.

"Oh sweetie. You need to learn to control your flashbacks."

"I've_ tried_, mum. I just can't." I'm angry at myself now. What if I have a flashback in the arena? I've been out for up to fifteen minutes before. And when twenty three people are trying to kill you, fifteen precious minutes cannot be wasted.

All too soon, the hit-wizards have returned and are ushering my family out of the room. They've both begun to cry again and quick but meaningful I love you's are spoken. I follow them to the door, reaching for Hugo's hand, but never quite grasping it.

"Promise me you'll win, Rosie! Promise you'll come back!"

Tears are streaming down his face, a hit-wizard's arm is across his chest, pulling him back, and his voice holds a certain panic. I know I can't win, but I promise anyway and then the door is slammed and he's gone. I'm left closing my fingers around air where his hand should be.

There's a knock on the door before it swings open, exposing someone I most definitely wasn't expecting to say goodbye. Trinity Brown. She rushes forward and envelopes me in a bone-crushing hug. She says nothing; neither do I. Words aren't needed. We both know that I saved her life by volunteering, even though I meant to save my brother's.

She pulls back and takes something out of her pink change purse. In a frantic voice, at a volume slightly too loud: "They let you wear a token from your district in the games. Will you wear this?"

Her hand opens, revealing a golden charm on a black piece of rope. It looks expensive. I begin to shake my head. "I – I don't know."

"Please, Rose? You have to let me give you something. I owe you that."

I'm still not comfortable taking such a pretty necklace from her, but she shoves it in my open palm and closes my fingers around it. The metal is cool and contrasts greatly with my hot skin. Trinity gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and runs out of the room.

The charm is in the shape of a bird, but I'm not sure which kind. It looks familiar, though. I'm so enthralled by Trinity's gift that I don't notice when my final visitor walks in. The necklace is taken from my hand by someone behind me. I start to protest when I feel cool fingers on the back on my neck. The bird rests against my collarbone and I turn around to see Teddy. Of course.

His eyes look so hollow and his face so broken. I fully realise that I'm going to die in this tournament. Immediately regretting every moment I didn't spend with him, I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my head in his chest. I don't get emotional, at least until I feel salty tears dropping on my head, neck, and shoulders. Teddy never cries.

He pushes me backwards softly and crouches down to my eyelevel. I'm transfixed by the drop of water making its way down the bridge of his nose. His hands grip either side of my face, forcing me to look straight at him.

"Listen to me. The Ministry, they just want a show. That's all they want."

"Twenty three people go in, Teddy. Only one comes out."

"Then you _be _that one, okay? You whoop their arses and come home."

"But – "

"Rose. You are the smartest witch I know. You have more skill with a wand than all of the Careers combined."

"But they don't always let you use wands."

Teddy lets go of me and kicks over the table by the couches. "Dammit, Rose! Stop convincing yourself you're going to lose! You're fast, you're brilliant, you learn things _so_ quickly… if anyone can win this thing, it's you! You can win this and you can come back. You have to come back, okay? I can't lose you."

He's holding me again, his face buried in my curls. One of his hands clenches the fabric at my spine and the other is tangled in my ruined hairstyle. His voice lowers to a whisper. "I can't lose you."

I don't know what to say. So I don't. Teddy holds me for a long time, but then the hit-wizards are at the door. He looks at them and then snaps his head back to me. Grabbing my arms, he speaks with such urgency that I'm momentarily taken aback.

"I gotta tell you something. I gotta tell you something before you go."

The hit wizards clutch the material of his shirt and drag him backwards. He's struggling against them, obviously wanting more time.

"Rose! Rose! Listen, I – "

The door slams shut and I will never know what Teddy wanted to tell me. I have no clue what it could be. I've hardly ever seen him that panicked.

Eric comes to fetch me and we walk to the train station just past the back garden of the Justice Building. Scorpius is already there. Unlike me, his face shows no sign of tears. There's not even a describable emotion. His face is blank. I make an effort to do the same, but I have a feeling I look sick to my stomach instead.

The scarlet train arrives. We learned in school that it used to take children to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before the new government took control. I close my eyes and imagine that I'm actually on a hidden platform, preparing to board the infamous Hogwarts Express. According to the age comparisons, I would be entering my sixth year. I pretend mum and dad are both standing behind me, dad with his hands on Hugo's shoulders. Both the platform and the train are full of excited witches and wizards, disappointed younger siblings, and reminiscing parents. A whistle sounds through the air and everyone rushes through the doors, not wanting to miss the train.

"Rose?"

I open my eyes. Abigail is standing in the entryway of the train, looking at me expectantly. The whistle I heard was the actual whistle and I am the only one still on the platform. I take a deep breath and step inside. The doors close and the train leaves at once.

I didn't think it was possible, but the train is fancier than the room in the Justice Building. Eric tells me I can do whatever I want for the next hour. But I must be in the dining car at exactly five o'clock. Scorpius, Abigail, and Stewart have all disappeared so I wander down the corridor looking for my compartment. Turns out, I have a whole car to myself.

On a sliding door hangs a gold plaque engraved with _Rose Weasley_ in fancy script. I unlatch it and walk into what is to be my living quarters for the next day or so. Nothing draws my attention, so I explore the lavatory. I'm interested by the shower straightaway. At home, we only ever bathed. Showers were a luxury, even for the rich.

I quickly strip and enclose myself within the glass cubicle. A nozzle shows hundreds of settings. I choose hot water without the massage. It feels like a summer rain shower and I close my eyes, remembering Hugo splashing in the puddles outside.

When my skin is pink and smelling of green apples, I turn off the stream of water. I wrap a fluffy white towel around my torso and venture towards the closet. It is already stocked with clothing. I rummage through the assortment of dresses and skirts before eventually finding soft blue pants and a white cotton t-shirt. I turn the bird necklace over in my hand. My shower seems to have rejuvenated my memory. The bird is a phoenix.

Phoenix. The symbol for rebirth and second chances. Bursting into flames and rising from the ashes in a never-ending circle. Some people believe that the phoenix represents humanity; constantly destroying one another, only to have new civilizations rise from the rubble.

I retie the rope chain around my neck and ponder why Trinity gave it to me. Surely there must be something more to it than gratitude. The grandfather clock in the corner chimes and I run through the train to reach the dining car on time. Something tells me that I do not want to get on Eric's bad side.

There's one seat left available when I arrive. And it's right next to Scorpius. I slide the chair back and sit down, aware of my every movement. The food appears on the plates and I have to remind myself that this is the Ministry. They can use magic freely.

I stuff myself because I've never had food like this, so good and so much, and because it would be good to put on a few extra pounds before the Games. There's a bit of everything on my plate. Hot, fresh turkey. Mashed potatoes. Bread and butter. Corn. Vegetable stew. Gravy. And when the dessert comes out, I cut a large slice of chocolate cake. By the time the courses are cleared, I'm fit to burst.

We all switch to another car to watch the recordings of the other reapings. I collapse on a comfy brown chair and lounge across it, my legs sticking out over the side. Scorpius watches me then does the same. I smirk. Eric presses a button on the remote control and the entire side of the train turns into a television.

The volunteering process for the Career districts is long and complicated. I'm actually glad we don't have to go through that. None of those tributes stick out to me; just a whole bunch of massive blockheads that are bound to team up in the arena. It's strange to watch our reaping from a bird's eye view. I see myself running through the crowd for Hugo, and I see myself sway on the stage. That must have been during my flashback. I hope the other tributes don't notice it.

There is a boy probably the age of twelve chosen in District 10. I am quickly reminded of Hugo. He has light blonde hair and his face is covered with freckles; he looks small for his age and silently cries while up on stage. At one point, I must have gotten up because I find myself touching my fingers lightly to his face.

"Rose?"

Scorpius' voice brings me out of my daze. He looks worried for me, like I'm a mental patient just out of treatment. I sit back down in the chair, properly this time, and watch the final two reapings. Eric leaves right away, and Abigail and Stewart soon after. I stay seated in the chair, my hands folded in my lap, and stare at a light brown stain on the carpet. I can't stop thinking about the District 10 boy.

"Rose? Come on, you need to get to bed."

I'm vaguely aware that Scorpius is leading me to my car. That boy will never see his home again. _I'll _never see my home again. I'll never see mum, or Victoire, or Teddy, or Hugo. Not even the homeless family who stays in the alleyway at the end of the street. I'm not going to get married, have kids. I'm not going to grow old and reminisce about the good old days.

Scorpius is tucking the blanket up to my chin. _Oh Merlin! Scorpius _will never see his home again. He'll never see his mum, or his dad. His friends will play Quidditch matches without him. He won't find a job, or get married either.

I'm crying now. There's a slight pressure on my left temple. The room goes dark. I fall asleep, still crying. _I'm going to die in there._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Well this one's out fast. I hope you enjoy it as much as the last. It's about twice as long as my previous chapters, which is _awesome_. There's not much more to say, so review and until next time.

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><p><strong>Review Replies: <strong>Cool. If you just stay unnamed, then I'll know it's you every time. Thanks, and my thoughts exactly. I felt bad for my baby, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Thank you (again) and awesome. I find it brilliant how many parallels I'm able to find, even ones that don't even make it into the story!


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